His Father's Son
by bewize
Summary: [COMPLETE] This was written in response to a challenge to put Gohan in his father's shirt.


Category: DBZ

Time Line: After the Frieza saga before the Eternal Dragon was  
summoned (if that means anything to you... lol)  
  
Rating: PG  
  
His Father's Son  
  
Gohan woke up with a start, gasping. He sat straight up in bed,  
trembling. His sheets and his clothes were soaked with sweat. He  
pulled his knees to his chest and choked back a sob that threatened  
to escape. He didn't want to wake his mother.  
  
He'd never tell her, but he often heard her crying at night, after  
she thought he was asleep. She tried to keep her tears from him, and  
he understood. He tried to keep his tears from her, too. It was  
hard enough facing the empty hours alone. He didn't want to burden  
his mother with the knowledge that his own grief was still so sharp  
that it often caused him physical pain.  
  
Sleep was a luxury neither could afford to give away. His mother was  
always working. She kept her body busy, drove it to exhaustion, so  
that her mind wouldn't have time to linger on her sorrow. As for  
himself, he pushed well past his exhaustion point every day. He  
could tell a difference, too. He was much stronger now than he used  
to be. In fact, he had progressed faster than he thought he would  
have, considering he kept his training a secret from his mother.  
  
He knew that his mother wouldn't forbid him to continue training,  
but she certainly wouldn't approve. He wasn't even sure himself why  
he kept going. He only knew that it felt good, it felt normal, it  
felt routine. But, mostly, he guessed it made him feel closer to his  
father. His father would have approved. And it had the added bonus  
of making him so tired he fell asleep at night as soon as he was  
under the covers. It was during the night that he missed his father  
the most. He ached for him then. He knew his mother felt the same  
way.  
  
His shaking subsided and he took several deep breaths to calm  
himself. A glance at the clock told him that it was early- only just  
after four. Experience told him he wouldn't sleep again that night.  
  
Gohan often had nightmares, remembering Frieza. His dreams were  
haunted by the memory of that almost reptilian body and the awesome  
and deadly power that emanated from it. He woke up more nights than  
not in a cold sweat, feeling the nausea roil in the pit of his  
stomach, smelling his own fear. That was when he cried.  
  
He cried for what he had seen, he cried for what he had not been able  
to do, for those he hadn't been able to protect, and he cried for his  
father. He could still remember the sudden emptiness as he felt his  
father's power level go down and then out.  
  
At the time, he had felt only disbelief. It was impossible that Goku  
should not win that battle. It was impossible for his father to  
lose. It was impossible for his father to die.  
  
He had turned around, disobeying his father's instructions to leave  
Namek, to take Bulma and Piccolo and run. He left the others on the  
ship and went back. Someone had to stay, someone had to beat  
Frieza. The universe was unsafe until that was done.  
  
Namek had already been ripping apart from the blast that Frieza had  
sent to its core. The ground shook with earthquakes as the planet  
crumbled. Volcanic eruptions appeared from previously flat plains  
and mountain chains appeared and disappeared within minutes.  
  
Still, Gohan had gone back for his father. His disbelief had paid  
off when he saw Goku emerge from the rubble. Injured, but alive.  
  
Alive, yes, but different. His father had changed when Krillin was  
murdered in front of his eyes. Gohan could feel the power levels  
shoot up, higher than he had dreamed possible. His normally dark  
haired and dark eyed father stood before him, blonde, green eyed and  
with an energy aura around him that radiated gold.  
  
His father had become legend then. A true Super Saiyan, something  
that hadn't existed in over a millennium. And something that had  
never existed in human form. The Super Saiyans of old only existed  
in their transformed state. Goku was always able to do the  
impossible. It was one of the things that Gohan never doubted. His  
father would always come through.  
  
Legend or not, to Gohan, Goku would always be "dad." At night in the  
darkness, that was who he missed. He missed his dad.  
  
Gohan didn't even have time to feel relief as his father ordered him  
away again. Ordered him to leave the battle. Ordered him to leave  
Namek. Ordered him to leave the person he loved most in the world.  
  
And Gohan had obeyed. With all the speed he could find, he pushed  
himself back to his friends. He had to get to them, had to get them  
off Namek. And then, suddenly and without warning, he found himself  
on earth. Surrounded by Nameks and his friends.  
  
Confusion reigned. Most of the people there had been dead only a few  
minutes before. It took time before they realized that Goku had  
worked a miracle and arranged for a wish to be made the Eternal  
Dragon. That wish took them off of a dying world and deposited them  
back on their own. They were all safe, except for Goku.  
  
Goku had stayed. He remained, locked in battle, determined to defeat  
Frieza at all costs. He couldn't allow Frieza to continue his quest  
for universal domination. When the news came that the battle was  
over, that Frieza was dead, the cheers were deafening.  
  
When the news came that Namek had exploded and Goku had not made it  
off, the silence was even louder. Gohan had not been alone in crying  
that day. His friends had cried with him. Devastated.  
  
So, Gohan trained. He didn't have grandiose ideas that he would  
suddenly be as strong as his father. He could only hope that someday  
he would be half the man his father was.  
  
Calmer now, Gohan climbed out of bed. Crawling on his knees, he  
peered under the bed. He pulled out a box that he had taken from his  
father's room. Inside, carefully folded, was one of his father's gis.  
  
He unfolded it and pulled it over his head. The pants were too big,  
but Gohan had rigged the shirt so that it fit him. He staggered  
under the weight of it. His father had always trained with weights  
sewn into his clothes and the shirt of the gi weighed almost as much  
as Gohan did. Determined, Gohan kept it on while he went through his  
morning stretches.  
  
He couldn't bring his father back. He couldn't find him. He didn't  
know where he was. But wearing his shirt, training in his father's  
colors reminded Gohan that he was his father's son. As long as he  
remembered that, it would be enough. 


End file.
